


Early Valentine’s Day

by justholdinghands



Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: F/M, Gillovny, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 12:53:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6052333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justholdinghands/pseuds/justholdinghands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Many thanks to @ofhooksandswans for the beta!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Early Valentine’s Day

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to @ofhooksandswans for the beta!

Right after the safety directives, she slips her phone out of her pocket one more time before she has to switch it off. She had texted him this morning to ask at what time he was supposed to land in London, but he didn’t answer, and he didn’t pick up when she tried to call him several times today. It’s 9 pm in Belfast, she just wrapped her shooting, and they were supposed to spend the weekend and the Valentine’s Day together. Not answering his phone doesn’t sound like him, and she starts to worry, and hopes nothing bad happened to him.

She pushes the “home” button on her IPhone, and sees a text message, finally. Her face lights up instantly with a wide smile that vanishes immediately as soon as she opens it. “Sorry babe, I can’t make it. I’m too busy. I’ll call you later.” Too busy? What the fuck is wrong with him? She taps on her phone to call him with the intention to yell at him, but the plane starts to take off, and the stewardess asks her to switch it off.

She had set up her whole weekend just for him, her kids will spend three days at their father’s, Piper is with her boyfriend, she bought new lingerie, and she waxed! And for what? Spending the weekend on her own because he is too busy? What happened to the David who spent the last two weeks teasing her, telling every single thing he would do to her as soon as he would be there, with a lot of dirty details that turned her on for hours? What happened to the gem who called her yesterday just to tell her how much he loved her, and couldn’t wait to see her? She used to have bad Valentine’s Days in her life, but this one looks like the worst she ever had.

As soon as the plane lands, she tries to call him again, in vain.

“David, can you call me back as soon as you get this message, please.” She says coldly to his answerphone.

Her suitcase rolls behind her as she heads toward the exit, and suddenly regrets saying “please.” He doesn’t deserve a “please”.

“For fuck’s sake, David, pick up your fucking phone!” She yells after the fifth ring again.

She lifts her arm to grab a taxi, steps inside and gives him her address. With the traffic, she knows she has about an hour left before being home. She feels hurried, but she doesn’t even know why. She could go anywhere else, no one is waiting for her. She could call this man who tried to pick her up last week, he was handsome and looked nice, a bit younger than her, but it’s not like she would marry him. It could be just for one night, after all. She hates herself for even thinking about it, and she curses him for allowing her to think about it. They are in a committed serious relationship, at least, that’s what she thought, and she can’t just slip into a stranger’s bed just because he upset her.

“David, it’s the third and last message. I give you ten minutes to call me, if not, it’ll not be worth it to call be back again.” She shoves her phone in the pocket of her black jeans, catching the sad look of the driver in the rear mirror, and rests her head against to window, watching the rain flowing on the glass.

Being in a long distance relationship is a hard work, and it requires a lot of trust. She isn’t used to not hearing his voice for an entire day, and even less not knowing what he could be doing. There are thousands reasons why he couldn’t make it, his kids, the filming of Aquarius taking more time than expected, even the blizzard in New-York or a sand storm in L.A, but being too busy? What does the even mean? They haven’t seen each other for a month, and now he can’t even give her a good reason for why he can’t come up. Fuck him.

Ten minutes had passed, and her phone didn’t ring. The angriness she used to feel is replaced by sadness and disappointment. She was so blind to think that he had changed, that he was a new man, more responsible, wiser and more reverent. She hates him for making her suffer just because she didn’t hear his voice for a day, she hates him for making her feel so dependent on him, she hates him for making her love him.

“Fuck you, David, you hear me? Fuck. You.” She hangs up with a grunt, and fights the stupid desire to throw her phone by the window.

She pushes the front door of her house, and finds the atmosphere unusually calm. Whenever she comes home, she is used to hearing her boys scream, to being welcomed by sweet hugs and kisses, and sometimes to smelling the nice scent of a good dish that Piper had cooked. But tonight, there’s nothing. Her living room is dark, it smells fusty, and the only noise she can hear is the purr of her fridge, probably full of vegetables that she asked her nanny to buy, just for him.

She is angry, and sad, but she won’t cry. She decides that he is not worth it, and instead, she heads toward her bathroom. She could use a warm bubble bath, with a lot of candles, and a nice book, and maybe after, she could think straight again, and understand what’s happening between them. Actually, it would be easier if she didn’t feel like she could smell his scent around her. Sometimes, when she sleeps, she swears she could feel him move behind her, she could hear him breath or snore, and when she starts to wake up, when her mind is still half asleep, she feels like his hands are on her, his mouth kissing her neck, and his morning arousal rubbing against her back. She feels the same sensation right now, except that she is not asleep. His absence makes her mind tricky, and she would give everything to stop smelling this characteristic fragrance.

She starts to run her bath, walking back and forth between her bedroom and the bathroom, removing one item of clothing every time, and trying not to look at her phone too often, in vain. Once completely naked, she immerses herself in her bath, and after a few minutes, she starts to drift off.

She is not completely asleep, but not really conscious. There’s a lot of bad thoughts crossing her mind, filling it with fear and anxiety. The images are not clear, but the sensations are vivid, and instead of being relaxed in her bath, she can feel all her muscles tense. Far away in her mind, she hears a door opening slowly, or maybe closing. Now she is dreaming. She sees him, running away from her, and closing the door of a house that doesn’t even exist. There’s something running slightly along her calve, from her ankle to the inside of her knee. She can’t see what it is, but she knows it’s bad, she wants to stop it, but she’s paralyzed, and it continues to run on her thigh. Soon, there’s more, like four or five fingers pressing on the inside of her thigh. Using both hands, she manages to push the thing away from her with full force, and feels relieved for a short moment, but soon, she hears a chuckle, and it’s back on her breast, and runs down slowly on her belly. Her brain slowly emerges on the surface of her consciousness, and she finally opens her eyes.

An horrifying scream escapes from her mouth, and her soaked hand slaps his cheek hard, splashing everything around, including him. It takes her a few seconds to realize who is sitting on the edge of her bathtub, with a hand plunged inside the water, resting gently around her navel.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” She yells, raising her breast out of the water. “You think it’s funny?” She yells louder, seeing him laughing.

“Oh, come on, babe! Every year, I come here to surprise you, I just wanted to do something different, for once.”

“I thought you wanted us to stop.” She says, trying to refrain her tears, in vain.

“Hey, hey, Gillian, come on, I’m sorry.” He says, cupping her face slightly to wipe her tears with his dry hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to… Argh, I’m so stupid, I just thought… Stop crying, please baby, I’m sorry.”

“I hate you.” She says, pouting, obviously more relaxed.

“I know, it was just a joke. A bad joke. But I can catch up.”

He stands on his feet, and strips in a fraction under her amused gaze, and steps one leg into the water. She lifts her back from the tube to give him room, and he settles down behind her, her head resting on his chest. She sits on his lap, his legs between hers, and his arms wrap around her shoulder, pressing slightly on her breast.

“Am I forgiven?” He whispers in her ear.

“You’d better have a huge gift, Duchovny.”

He chuckles and puts a soft kiss on the top of her head. “I do.” He says, pressing his growing erection against her back.

She slaps his arm gently, and chuckles. “It’s not *that* huge,” she teases.

“Hey!” He protests, biting her earlobe. “I missed you, Gillian.”

She smiles and turns her face to kiss him tenderly, her lips brushing his, her tongue running along his bottom lip. “I missed you too,” she whispers, “But don’t do that again. Never,” and deepens the kiss as his hands caress the side of her breast, down to her ribs, and cup her butt cheeks firmly. She opens her legs in response, allowing his hands to travel inside, and she moans in his mouth when his middle finger runs along her folds to find her straightened clit. She breaks the kiss, and rests her head on his chest, abandoning herself to the delightful sensation of his hands on her, with his cock fully erect twitching against her back.

“You forgive me, now?” He whispers, his tongue caressing the side of her ear.

“Not yet,” she sighs.

He cups one of her breasts, toying with her nipple, as his other hand cups her center, his thumb pushing on her clit and drawing little circles.

“And now?”

“It’s getting better.”

Despite the water, he can feel how wet she already is, and without delay, he pushes his middle and ring fingers inside her. She arches her back and moans at the sensation, pushing her pelvis down on his fingers to sink them deeper.

“Hum, I can feel your forgiveness, baby.” He teases, and pinches her nipple hard as his fingers thrust faster inside her.

“Yeah,” she sighs.

His hand moves to her other breast, pinching her nipple harder, and the sensation goes right to her clit, making her scream, and arch her back again. She lifts her ass reflexively, his fingers buried deep inside her, and sits back on his stomach, his erection straightening between her thighs. His thumb becomes frantic on her clit, and she feels the urge to touch her other breast, rubbing her nipple the same way he does to the other one. Her other hand wraps around his cock and he thrusts in the air, lifting them both, and changing the angle of penetration of his fingers.

“Yeah, right there, right there,” She moans, as his middle finger is presses against her G-spot. “Do that, again, Dave,” She urges him, and he taps on the spot, faster and faster. Her muscles clench around him, and she squeezes his cock in response, feeling her orgasm build. “Oh, fuck!” She screams, “don’t stop, don’t stop!”

He grunts feeling her fingers tightening around his engorged cock. He speeds up the path of his fingers and increases the pressure on her clit. She clenches the edge of the tube, and comes hard around him, yelling a bunch of naughty incomprehensible words among which he recognizes his name and God’s name.

“Oh, shit! I just came so hard.” She sighs, laying back against him, her hand still stroking his cock gently.

He pulls out off her, and kisses her jaw before she turns her head to kiss him properly.

“That’s what I call forgiveness!” He chuckles, and kisses her again, as she rubs the tip of his cock against her folds. “Let’s get out of that tub, babe.”

She shakes her head, and lays comfortably on him, her ass pressed against his hard abs. Without warning, she eases him fully inside her.

“Oh, fuck Gillian!” He grunts in appreciation. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

“I know,” she sighs, and starts to move up and down on his cock.

“Babe, you’re gorgeous.” He says, at the sight of her body laying on his, and his dick going in and out of her.

The moves of her hips drive him crazy. He tries to hold back, thinking about everything but the fact that she squeezes his cock with the muscles of her vagina with every move down, but soon, she raises, and crouches down, leaning on this opposite of the tube.

“Fuck me, baby.” She says, reaching her ass towards him.

He grips at her waist, and starts to thrust up, the water overflowing everywhere on the floor.

“It’s been long… I won’t last… Oh fuck, you feel so good, babe.” He moans between thrusts.

“I know… Just let go… Fuck, I’m so close!”

He sees her arm moving frantically from behind, and guesses she is touching herself, and it turns him on even more, if it’s possible. He lets go of her waist to lean on the tube for a better leverage, and speeds up. Soon, there’s less and less water in the tub, and this position allows him to see her pink anus hitting his groin with every thrust. He circles the edge with his middle finger, and she cries out when he enters the tip.

“Oh fuck, David… Harder… Fuck me harder…” She begs, and he puts his finger all the way inside her ass, keeping the rhythm of his pelvis. “Oh, god… Fuck, I’m… Oh fuck, I’m coming again…”

He lets a loud scream escape while she milks his orgasm silently, and lays back against the tub, exhausted, waiting for her to pull him out whenever she’s ready.

“I love the shit out of you, Gillian Anderson.” He gasps, rubbing the foam on her back.

Eventually, she eases his softening cock out of her, and turns around to face him. Her face is flushed, and sweaty, and she couldn’t look more beautiful.

“I forgive you, David Duchovny.” She chuckles, and kisses him. “And I love you too” She whispers in his mouth. “Let’s go to bed.”

****

“Wait a minute,” he says as she is already laying under the sheets, waiting for him.

He leaves the room for a short moment, and comes back with a box the size of a big book wrapped in a red gift paper, with a pretty bow on the top.

“It’s not Valentine’s Day, yet.” She says, sitting her back against the headboard, with a childish smile on her face.

“I know, you’ll have to wait until Sunday for the jewelry, but I couldn’t wait for this one.”

“You bought me a jewel, Duchovny?” She teases, holding her hands to grab the box.

He chuckles and sits on the edge of the bed. “You’ll see that later. Open this one first.”

She unwraps the box and opens it, to find a thick script inside. It’s written X-Files season 11 on it.

“Can I have the jewel, instead?”

He chuckles again, “Open it!” he says impatiently.

She holds the script, and puts the box away on the bed, raising her eyebrow at him. He nods at the script with a grin, and she turns the first page, and reads the first words: “London. 02:14pm”


End file.
